We'd Have a One-year-old

Time, like an ever-rolling stream, soon bears us all away.*

Can you believe that my first baby was due more than a year ago? I can, but that doesn't make it easy to picture what it would be like to have a one-year-old already. Time continues to heal and I can view last year's emotions from a comfortable distance. I spent a lot of last spring and summer thinking about how far along I should be. To a lesser extent, I thought about how old Keiki would be after the EDD passed. But as life continued, the stream of time rolled along, those thoughts simply faded.

Anniversaries, though, have a way of bringing things back to the surface. In the past few weeks, I've seen a few one-year-olds and was struck by the notion that I would have one of those had things been different. I can't be sad about these thoughts; it's just not worth the turmoil. One thing miscarriage has taught me is that I just have to let myself feel what I'm going to feel and not try to force any emotions.

And I really am doing well continuing to look at the silver lining. If we had a one-year-old, we almost certainly would not have bought a house and moved. I would be a different kind of parent than I plan to be for this little one. I've had longer to think about pregnancy and parenting and my views have matured in many facets. And, in a general sense, I've learned to appreciate pregnancy far more and in different ways than I might have otherwise.

Now that I'm more than halfway there (!), I'm feeling Lily move around more and more, and I can barely change the size of my bump by sucking in. I'm really, really pregnant. I finally told all my piano students' parents so that they know what's going to happen after the baby comes. None of them knew about my miscarriages, and they still don't.

But the more people know and can tell I'm pregnant by looking at me, the more I feel compelled to explain my history. For every ten people who are really excited and happy for us, there's one or two that I suspect might be dealing with pain as regards pregnancy. Like that lady who just had her second child after a nine-year-gap. And that not-old-but-no-longer-childbearing-age couple who may not be childless by choice. My heightened sensitivity feels the need to explain to them that I have put in my time in the school of hard knocks, that even though I'm young and a relative newlywed, this road hasn't been as easy as you might assume. I'm pregnant, but I'm trying not to flaunt it.

That's just another unfair thing about miscarriage. Why should anyone's pain make someone feel better? Why should I feel like I have truly earned the right to be pregnant with a healthy baby by virtue of what I've gone through? No amount of explanation or attempts at justification will make my or anyone else's situation fair. There's just no fairness to be had in this fallen world. All I can really do, therefore, is to be at peace and pray. Pray for myself, for my Lily, and for all others out there who long to be parents but for whom the unfairness of life has intervened. Amen.



*from the hymn "O God, Our Help in Ages Past"